


Solitaire

by BetaFerret



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Other, mild scent kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 10:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17180933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetaFerret/pseuds/BetaFerret
Summary: The only surprising thing about this is that it took this long.





	Solitaire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dark_Puck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Puck/gifts).



> Dark_Puck inspires me to write things because of how they write Luxord.

The shirt is bunched up around his chest, a handful pulled towards his face so that when Luxord inhales, he gets a lung full of the earthy, masculine scent of it’s owner. The scent feeds his imagination, making his fantasy that much clearer.

  
In his mind, it’s not his own hand that strokes his cock with a firm and sure grip; it belongs to someone far larger than himself, with rough, calloused palm and fingers. Ideally, the owner would be behind him, their broad chest against the back of his shoulders and a flat stomach against his spine. 

  
Ideally they would be  _fucking_  him as well, in long, slow strokes that would be just a  _little_  too hard and keep him on edge of comfort.  
That part is more difficult. He’d love to replicate it or at least do something to  _mime_  it, but with his other hand busy holding the shirt to his nose, he has to make due with fantasies. They’re more than enough, in this case; he knows what a slightly-too-rough fuck feels like, well enough that the details fill themselves in quite nicely and he’s left blushing and whining without any further help.

  
“F-fuck.” He stutters, panting into the shirt. “Yes!”

  
It’s not hard to imagine the owner of the garment pulling one of Luxord’s legs up just a little, spreading him wider and making it easier to fuck him. Now he would be  _intentionally_  rougher, and what the Gambler wouldn’t give to feel teeth against his neck and shoulder. Another lover of his might whisper something filthy in his ear… 

  
No. He’d have only praise when he had the mind to speak, Luxord is sure.  _You feel so good_  and  _Light you’re beautiful_. Gentle things in worshipful tones, and in that deep voice it would be as good as the kind of talk he normally enjoyed. He’s not much of a talker, but he’d make it count…

  
Luxord has managed to get himself rather worked up. The warmth in his belly and groin, the way his spine from neck to hips feels tense, how he can’t take a full breath if he wants to and the coat of sweat on his skin that makes him so aware of every draft in his room. If he’d known that a borrowed shirt could help this much, he would have been doing this  _ages_  ago and  _often_.

  
He strokes himself faster, in time with his fantasy-lover’s motions and tightens his grip  _just so_ , pausing to tease himself, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the head of his cock and smearing pre-cum across it. He shudders with delight, biting his lower lip and allowing himself to make soft, needy noises. Nothing so loud or showy as he might be prone to in company, but he has no one to impress here but himself.

  
For now.

  
He gives himself one last teasing squeeze, then inhales a shuddering breath through the shirt, filling his lungs with that wonderful scent again. Fast now, bucking into his own hand as he struggles to reach his climax. Would his lover join him in tipping over that edge? Break his composure and rut him until they both collapsed, wet and messy on that extra-large bed of his?

  
He certainly hopes so. The idea of it- being fucked to orgasm and past it with those big hands on him, bruising his hip and fisting his cock, teeth worrying the skin of his neck just bellow his ear and the huff of hot breath– it pushes him over the edge so hard that he’s left seeing stars. The breath might as well be punched out of him. All he can smell is–

“ _Lexeaus!_ ”

  
He collapses with a sigh, stretching contentedly like a cat away from the wet spot he’s created in his sheets. The shirt stays bunched up around his chest as he pants and groans with pleasure, well away from the mess. He’s polite enough even now not to clean himself with it. Besides, he likes the idea of sneaking it back to its owner, mostly clean but subtly smelling of pleasure. The idea that Lexaeus might wear something that smells like him- like sex with him, even if he doesn’t realize it, is more than a little thrilling.

  
Yes, he’ll return it mostly clean.

  
The look on Zexion’s face much later will be a wonderful bonus.


End file.
